


Hooked

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: The Symphony of Our Catastrophe [8]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Boys In Love, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erik stays, M/M, Post-X-Men: Days of Future Past, Reconciliation, Second Chances, i'm still learning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 18:23:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19301269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: Erik returns after the events of X-Men Days of Future Past.





	Hooked

   It was unexpectedly quiet for an afternoon at the mansion. Workers had been hammering away around the clock with their loud voices, grating machines, and invasive thoughts as they struggled to turn Charles’s old home into something resembling a school once more.

   At least it was all on time, it was the least he could ask for.

   Today, however, everything seemed to have been put on old. Idly, Charles wondered if it was the storm clouds that ushered the workers away, he’d have to ask Hank about it at some point. Then again, perhaps it had something to do with the figure striding confidently across the manicured lawn. It was entirely possible Charles had projected his unease and everyone had thus followed their instincts to stay clear.

   Charles wished he could say he was surprised to see Erik here, but he wasn’t.

   Twirling the vial between his fingers again and again, Charles waited patiently, trying to ignore the gaping hole where a brilliant mind should be firing off synapses and putting him at ease. He pretended to be fascinated by the papers littering his desk, accounts and enrollment plans staring back at him knowingly.

   When patio doors opened and footsteps entered in near silence, Charles still didn’t look up. The truth of the matter was that he could already feel the anger boiling up inside him, familiar and humiliating. Erik had a tendency to do that to people.

   He also had a tendency to make Charles weak in the knees, figuratively speaking of course.

   “Charles.”

   The soft accent and the way it caressed his name was almost enough to make him want to let go of his tightly held control, demand that Erik leave and stop treating him like a charity case to babysit and be pitied.

   “Charles,” Erik repeated firmly.

   “I haven’t taken any as you can see from looking at my chair Erik. You may go now.”

   There was a long pause.

   Charles was trying very hard not to imagine it filled with hoped.

   “You’re holding the vial.”

   “With no needle in sight.”

   Another pause.

   “Charles, I didn’t come here to-”

   “Lies Erik. Just because I can’t read you telepathically doesn’t mean I don’t know you.”

   “Look at me.”

   The sudden steel beneath his words did make Charles inadvertently look up and he immediately regretted it. Erik, while wearing that maddening helmet, was no longer dressed in full Magneto garb and the sight was mildly unsettling.

   No, he wore tight black pants and a familiar green army jacket, civilian clothing and not at all what he was expecting. The expression, however, was the most surprising and once more Charles felt the handicap of Erik’s helmet keenly.

   Erik was gazing down at him with a softness in his eyes that had been sorely missed all these years, even when Charles was sure he hated him, when his heart had been shattering for the dozenth time.

   It was frustratingly unfair to see it directed at him now.

   Erik swallowed thickly, “I came to apologize.”

   “For what?” Charles couldn’t keep the sourness from his tone. “For trying to kill my sister? for trying to destroy the white house? for trying to kill Logan? For nearly killing me? For betraying me again?”

   Charles saw Erik’s jaw clench and it felt good in a way that was sickeningly familiar. He leaned back a little bit, shifting until he was more comfortable in his chair and despite the exhaustion, he always seemed to feel these days, the low burn of fear and anger that had settled in his gut, Charles could admit he craved this. He craved Erik and their combative nature, and the way Erik seemed just as hooked as Charles was.

   “This is getting redundant Erik. You came here in a similar way after Cuba to apologize. Remember? Is this going to be a never-ending cycle then? Apologize, betray, apologize?”

   It was cruel and not at all in line with the new philosophy his older self tried to make him understand but Charles felt as though he’d earned this small lapse. Erik, apparently, did not agree at all.

   “No,” he gazed at Charles with an intensity that seemed to startle both of them. “No, I came because I realized, after ten years locked in a prison, I’ve had the time to do a lot of thinking, planning. I ended up spending most of that time thinking about you.”

   Charles hated how much effort it took not to react to that.

   “You were right on the plane Charles. I abandoned you after everything and I don’t want to do that again,” Erik’s voice was sincere and no doubt his intentions were as well, but Charles liked to think he was no fool, no matter what his treacherous heart was doing to him in that moment.

   “Erik. We need to stop making promises to each other that we can’t keep,” the words barely raised above a whisper, pain lacing his tone. A broken heart was a difficult thing to hide, especially one that had been ground into dust.

   Cool steel eyes met his. Determination glinted like the edge of a blade. Hands came up to grip the helmet and tug it from his sweaty head.

   Charles stared.

_Come in and tell me it’s a promise I won’t keep._

   Charles was still struggling with his control, with the finer elements that used to come so naturally to him, and the temptation was almost too much to resist. His telepathy was already unfurling toward the familiar landscape, practically desperate to reunite with the vibrant, passionate mind. It took a herculean effort to reel it back in.

   “No.”

   “Charles-”

   “I’m tired Erik,” Charles shook his head, slumping in his chair and trying to explain the words all jumbled up in his head. “I’m tired of words and promises. I don’t want to look at intentions or plans or thoughts.”

   Erik blinked, seemingly surprised before nodding slowly. He had always known Charles too painfully well.

   “What _do_ you want?”

   “Actions. Not words.”

   There was a long pause. Erik’s eyes were settled on him and Charles could practically feel the speed with which his mind was whirring.

   “Ok.”

   “Ok?”

   “Yes. I’m willing to try. For as long as you’ll have me.”

   Charles stared at him. Erik was serious, that much was clear. The man across from him, eased back in his chair, the body language clear as day; I’m not going anywhere.

   The last thing he’d expected to come from this was something of a beginning. Charles would be a fool to believe it, a fool to abandon the anger and frustration inside him. But then, Erik had always been his weak spot.

   Like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

   “Ok.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still trying to figure these guys out but I think we're slowly (very slowly) getting there.


End file.
